i hear footsteps from next door
           someone is walking up and down
back and forth someone is pacing
                       i  can't tell what the footsteps are saying
they are full of emotion
more footsteps as i tune my listening
                               two houses away
they're louder, that doesn't make sense
my hearing becomes more attuned, i can hear all the way up the street
                                         as far as holly park
the footsteps are similarly different
i don't know if they are speaking to each other
                                   or      to everyone
perhaps if i return at 2 am quiet
i'll be able to hear footstep whispers telling stories
speaking rhythms    there is magic     ancient secrets
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twelve red, ruby roses
                are  changing
                       along, slender stocks
green leaves are 
            fading
                 crumpled leaves
                 ar    e   falling
                    up   on       the table
no regrets
      no sighs
            no remorse
                          only  air
                          only water
                          only
                                           now

 

wisps of poems
             circle around my brain
                     nothing settles
snatches of color
            enter the shining of words
i long for the special closeness of my father's spirit
                gentle counseling found in a silent look
what would 'pappy'do with poem pieces?
he would gaze at them like  dark, red roses
                     trim   fading leaves
    shape tender petals
                     look upon them with flower love
what would 'my dad' do with poem phrases?
he would instinctively touch them
                like ripening beefsteak tomatoes
remove unnecessary    insects
                          wait until the right moment
what would 'my father' do with aching hearts
he would water and fertilize them
                        lullaby them under the waning moon
                                     knowing they're eternal treasures
to wash away winter woes
   make             borscht
           you          can speak to borscht
                                          it will listen
no two are alike
               each one changes
                          a   s it nears pot bottom
            becomes more philosophic
                                 has been known to give advice
consult the borscht on onion size and strength
there is always a garlicopinion
               my favorite winter borscht
                                    is
                                      very
                                          joyful
it is full of:cranberries, beets, onions, garlic, chicken broth, raisins,
brown sugar, red cabbage, red wine, sometimes an errant vegetable
                                        like            kohlrabi;
it is a wonderful companion for a holiday season
if you are missing loved ones
                    run to the pot and have a taste
             sometimes it will speak; othertimes it will bubble happiness
if you are feeling overwhelmed
                           sit and slowly savour a small bowlful
sing to the beat of the popping cranberries
                           dance to beet drenching
it is
    sacrilegious
 to      be    sad    in    the     presence   of     b  o  r  s  c  h  t 


money fell on wall street
                     like manna from heavenly banks
the stockers and the buyers
             ran through narrow streets
stuffing their clothes with
                  green, green money
stuffing their mouths with
                                old,  green money
stuffing their thoughts with
                                              old, greed money
feeling indomitably green
feeling impenetrably rich
                         feeling without feeling
money fell on billionaire mansions
                             like snow from neverending skies
the richers and the hoarders
                        danced on their green lawns
                                 stuffing their homes with
dead,  dead  money
                                 stuffing their cars with
dead, hollow money
                                 stuffing their children with
dead,  paper money
feeling indomitably flush
feeling impenetrably privileged
                            feeling without any feeling
money blew in the wind
                  like december snow flurries
                                  among the moderates and the poor
through the wide, frozen gardens
                         barely giving them clothes
for the cold, cold winter
                         barely giving them food
for the cold, lean winter
                         barely giving them strength
for the cold, hard winter
                         feeling eternally grateful
                         feeling constantly blessed
                         feeling the warmth of love
Zeus looked down and said, "This isn't right."
Jesus looked earthward and prayed, "The blessings must be balanced."
Buddha silently meditated, knowing words were futile.
Gods of countless centuries gazed at thin, calculated greed
Stared earthward with anger
                     Moving toward the mansions and money mountains
the oregon coast is very wide.
                          if you look to the east
                             you can see the sand
                                       disappear
                                        into the horizon, 
if you look to the west
   you can see the waves   splash into the distant sky                                       
                       
 a beautiful woman came to the shore
                                   each day and searched
                                         along
                                         the eastern sandway.
            searching as far as her eyes were able to see;
               hoping    for a figure to appear in the faraway.
 each day she searched
               into
 the western seaspan;
                   hoping for a person in the pulsing tide.
every day her entire being reached out 
                                   until she was stretched
                                                   beyond
                                                   recognition;
until she imagined becoming an egret
                               standing stately at sandend.
                         until she imagined entering a pelican
                     diving into the watersend.
alldays she washed sadness from her being;
forever she covered her soul with glowing joy
            knowing that somecentury his spirit would revitalize.
he would appear on the skyline,
                       squeeze between earth and sky,
   come running to her with smiling, flowing white hair
                 open arms
        diving into the vast portals of her waiting heart


[for Christie]
rejoice in the days
                alway
                and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the silver
   of sunrise
                and again i say rejoice
in the morning light
      which opens up
all that can be seen
rejoice in the smiles
        touching eyes
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in our hearts
   of           warmth
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in our joining hands
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the air
     we breathe
        in the depth
     of stars
        in the gift
     of life
                 and again i say rejoice
we shall never forget
          the dream
of all that happened
                  and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the endless
                     soul of the universe
                   and again i say rejoice
                         and again i say rejoice
                               and again i say rejoice   










 

silent night; holy night
search for joy, search for peace
open hearts will sing of love
calm is found in the glowing dove
sleep in earthly peace; sleep in earthly peace

silent night; holy night
greed is gone, turned to dust
join our hands with gentle grace
shine like stars in eternal space
sleep in earthly peace; sleep in earthly peace

silent night; holy night
angels sing from the sky
earth is bright; earth is dark
hope descends within a lark
sleep in heavenly peace; sleep in heavenly peace

silent night; holy night
every being wrapped in soft
mankind chants its endless song
centuries wake to a silent gong
sleep in heavenly peace; sleep in heavenly peace

 

 

 

in the end there is no end; there is only light. darkness is the shortness of your sight. vision stretches and you discover there is an edge to darkness where there is only light. all defining lines disappear as you melt into the forever and experience the bright lightness you once feared

in the end
there is no end
there is only light
darkness is the shortness of your sight
vision stretches
and you discover there is an edge to darkness
where there is only light
all defining lines disappear
as you melt into forever
and experience the bright lightness you once feared
 

                                                                                  
       in the end            there is no end                                                                                     there is no end
 there is only      light
 darkness is the shortness of your sight
                                   vision  stretches and you discover
 t  h ere                is        an edge to darkness
                                                where there is only light
             all defining
                                           lines
                                          disappear
                                                    as you melt into forever
                                                   and experience the bright
                                 lightness               you     once            
 feared 

 


 

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